I lay my book down
and stared up at my grief,
why are you still lingering?
There had been so much loss
of love
and life
I wasn't going to repay this forward
I buried it with the rest of the memories
at least they had each other.
When you feel like I have drifted
just know that sometimes I need to find solace
in my self
and this feeling was not a reflection of you
but we are reflections of each other
mirror images
all of us -
one by one
- one.
While the universe had given me you
I would refuse to give you back.
You were the answers to the myriad of questions
and somehow I let you know
that I would never leave you behind
in any sense -
it made sense,
for our lives had already seen enough.

much of my time
I spend apart from you

by necessity
     choice, or coincidence
I am not sure

we have our different obligations
which also   paradoxically
allow us freedom from each other

make us elated
when we are together
again

This one...
This one tells me he loves me and actually means it.
He embraces my dark mind in all its fullness.
He kisses my flaws and makes love to my dark shadows.

I keep waiting for him to break my heart,
So that deep, sad sonnets could seep through the crevices.
I keep waiting for that heart wrenching blow that'll set my soul screaming out, triggering past demons to arise and causing my hands to write sad reflections of the pain.

I've only ever written about Ghost hearts and Lost loves.
But how do I do that anymore?
How do I write about pain and suffering when all I feel is love and immense joy?

He stole the very essence of my poetry.
How dare he.
But I love him still.
And maybe, just maybe poetry doesn't always have to be dark.
But that's a story for another day.

Have you ever longed for a stranger?
Do you find yourself zoning out, looking forward to remembering their mannerisms and quirks?
Writing of memories from a time yet to come—it's both hopeless and hopeful at the same time.
To get excited about something or someone coming from a time and place of uncertainty, that should make me feel something else aside from excitement itself.
Fear? I fear not. It's all anticipation running around my haywire of a head.
When you see me or when I see you for the first time,
What will you be wearing? In what color?
Would I be sad and sober? Or would I be happy-drunk?
As embarassing as it would be, we know we'll have to talk to each other, exchange a few words or we could say things enough for both of us to fall in love with each other right then and there.
Would I passively tell you how I hate that week or would I start to tell you about my contradicting dreams of setting out a life of restless travels
and living in a quaint little apartment that sees a good amount of morning light and how it's going to be filled with wilted flowers, antiques and fifteen cats?
I know I would want both although it's careless and contradicting. But this is just one and I have a house full of them.
Do you even think dreams have to be logical?
Do you believe that we have to be careful in order to get to our dreams or do we go the exact opposite way?
I hope you'd share some of your dreams, too. The more careless, the better.
Would my heart still be beaten up to a pulp by then or would it beat foolishly once more like a brand new snare?
How about you? I wonder how your heart would sound, even now.
Is it punk rock one minute and classical the next or perhaps Disney when you're spacing out?
And I can only wish you're not even half of the lunatic that I am, because I know I need a bit of a balance in my life right now but hey, whatever and whoever you are, come as you are anyway. It's just a wishful thought.
Would I even get lucky enough to come inside your room to dance and spill my last ounces of colors in every corner?
To splatter your walls with my poorly-written poems would be another careless dream to add up on my long list.
Would we like the same music? Would you like drunk dancing as much as I do? Would you prefer watching the moonlight or basking in the setting of the sun? Would you fancy my humor? Would we romanticize escaping reality and the city because we know it imprisons us like nothing and nowhere else? Would I hesitate or anticipate seeing you for the second time? Would you anticipate seeing me over and over again even after seeing me cry because I'm too drunk or too sad or too happy or everything at once? Would we surf with the currents or confine to the safety of the shore?
Or do we stay friends?
Or do we stay friends for only a night?
Or do we become strangers, just strangers?
Or do we become strangers again after being fiercely in love with each other for so long, after being there for each other through the sunny days and storms, after being friends, after we were strangers?
If you see me for the first time, I hope my made-up face and my ever unruly, hand-combed crazy hair would make up for my much crazier mind, to say the least.

But may we hurry up a little if we can, answer these careless questions before they pile up.

crazy how
i let all this **** happen
just cos i didn’t wanna be the one
to hurt you...

Autumn is in your eyes -
reflected from the trees;
a shining, dazzling, glory,
glowing from off its leaves.

Autumn is in your kiss -
lingering, soft and long;
I hear heaven's music,
it must be autumn's song.

Autumn is in your touch,
subtle, warm, refreshing;
you snuggle close to me,
I feel our bodies meshing.

Autumn is in your voice,
calm as an evening breeze;
sweet as honeyed-nectar,
sure to the lips to please.

Autumn is in your eyes,
from lovely shimmering leaves;
cascading down from above,
from sunshine, dappled trees.

In bed, I lay
upon my cushioned existence I stay
but outside the world's at play
birds swimming in the sky
and trees that gently sway
dancing the day away
and I continue to lie
the distant sounds
of yawning grounds
two parched lips
as the Earth does rip
let the rain come
so we may take a sip
heavens nectar
falls upon a discarded deckchair
striped like candy cane
blotched with the rain
scattered upon sandy dunes
could this be a monsoon
ironically late
but still worth the wait
paid patience admission at the gate
one ticket to wet wet wet
this is what patience gets
just need a raincoat
so I can appear in the matrix
how can you hate this
a neopolitan sky
dripping with colour
if I were a scholar
I could espouse on its many virtues
instead, I turn up my collar
and tip my hat
a little milk won't hurt you
an umbrella swung round a lamppost
and now I'm Gene Kelly
still wearing a raincoat
but dancing
romancing the moonlight
for night has snuck in the back door
like an absent teenager
but this too shall pass
soon the dunes turn to grass
and I too return to task
a new day
at play.

An idiot is harmless,
Until that idiot falls in love,
Then they’re willing to do anything,
For the person they’re in awe of.

Whether its building a new world,
Or burning the old one down,
They’ll stop at nothing,
To give their love a crown.

Now if that love fades,
And they are left weeping,
They could take one of two paths,
Both will leave an empty heart unsleeping.

Path one is war and rampage,
Destroy everything in their way,
Path two is depression and tears,
They may cause their own doomsday.

Either way an idiot is harmless,
Until that idiot falls in love,
And if you happen to cross that idiot,
Beware for they do not care, they are deprived of---------